Relics of a previous age, many now wonder free, their bodies having outlasted their bonds. Their minute sentience is easy to manipulate, giving many upstart mages illusions of grandeur, only to be swiftly crushed by a temperamental whim. Forged with runic stones, only a seasoned mage can master these magical constructs.

Every practitioner of the dark arts knows that there is a pit from which they cannot return, a threshold across which they cannot retreat. A sorcerer has embraced this fate, surrendering his humanity for greater power and knowledge. no longer bound by the laws of man, a sorcerer can tap into magic not intended for the mortals he abandoned.

Years ago, a den of medusae spun a myth that their gaze could turn a man to stone. Since that time, many a fool has entered the lairs of these serpent demons, wielding ineffectual shields of glass or stumbling forward with their eyes closed tight. The complicated hexes of the medusae are weaved with ease upon men who refuse to watch.